


Don't Stop

by coincidental_penalties, watchforwalkers



Category: Glee
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Angst and Porn, Barebacking, Brief Mentions of Hairless Cat, Cheating, Doctor Blaine, Drunken Confessions, Emotional Infidelity, Flash Forward, Fucking Away The Emptiness, Guilt, Infidelity, M/M, No Attempts Made to Justify This Cheating, They Know It's Wrong, Unhappy marriages, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, non-linear storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:38:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coincidental_penalties/pseuds/coincidental_penalties, https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchforwalkers/pseuds/watchforwalkers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At almost 30, neither Finn nor Kurt's lives are anything like what they'd hoped for. Rachel's Broadway and music career is at its peak, Blaine devotes day and night to his work at the hospital, and Finn and Kurt have spent too many nights empty and alone. Meeting for drinks on Monday night sends them into a spiral of passion and guilt, forcing them to examine whether their marriages are worth saving and whether a relationship built on secrecy and lies is doomed to crash and burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Stop

_Kurt has his head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, and Finn spreads both his hands across Kurt’s sweat-slick back. Kurt lets out a low breathy moan, his hands flat on Finn’s chest as he moves himself up and down. Finn runs his tongue up the side of Kurt’s neck, feeling Kurt’s pulse beating against Finn’s mouth._

_“This is wrong,” Finn murmurs into Kurt’s skin. “This is so wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this.”_

_“I know,” Kurt responds, his voice low. “I’m a horrible person for this. We should stop.” He pauses, his body jerking down, and his head shakes. “Keep going,” he gasps._

_“Yeah,” Finn agrees, snapping his hips up to pound into Kurt even harder. “We have to stop this. We can’t keep doing this.” He slides his hands down Kurt’s back again and again, fingers flexing against Kurt’s shoulder blades, then his ass._

_“This is the last time,” Kurt promises, just like he does every time._

_“You’re right. Last time. We’ll stop,” Finn says. “Oh, goddamnit, Kurt, move faster.”_

_“Yeah,” Kurt says, and he does move faster, his fingers clenching and the tips of his nails digging into Finn’s skin as he fucks himself on Finn, harder and faster than before. “So fucking close,” he mutters, and it’s not clear if he’s talking about himself or Finn._

_“We’ll stop,” Finn repeats, nearly panting he’s breathing so hard. “We’ll shower, you’ll go home, we’ll never do this again, just come for me now, come for me.” His hands tighten on Kurt’s ass, pulling Kurt down onto Finn’s cock one more time._

_“Yes, yes,” Kurt says, almost yelling, and he does come, his nails sharp and sliding down Finn’s shoulders and chest before he collapses against Finn silently. Finn can feel his skin stinging where Kurt’s nails dug little furrows across Finn’s shoulders, and while Finn hopes he isn’t bleeding onto the sheets, he doesn’t push Kurt off of him. If Finn waits long enough, Kurt will get up and head into the shower without saying anything._

_Four or five minutes pass before Kurt rolls off Finn and sits on the edge of the bed. He sighs heavily and then gets up, walking into the bathroom without speaking or looking at Finn. When Kurt reemerges, he’s fully dressed, and he picks up his bag before walking to the apartment door. He pauses with his hand on the knob, looking behind him at Finn for a long minute or two before opening the door and leaving, still silent._

_Once Finn is sure Kurt is gone, he stands up and goes into the bathroom, starting the shower. When he steps under the shower spray, the hot water makes the long pink scratches over his shoulders burn. The scratches aren’t that deep, though, and they’ll likely heal before the next time._

 

Kurt looks at his clean kitchen, then back his phone, which has the same time, plus two minutes, as the last time he looked, and the same message from Blaine. Kurt knows that residency isn’t easy, but he isn’t really joking when he tells Blaine that sometimes he’s afraid he’ll forget what Blaine looks like. Kurt stares at his phone for another thirty seconds before he picks it up, going to Finn’s name and pressing ‘call’. It only rings twice before Kurt hears Finn answer.

“Kurt? What’s up?”

“Do you have any plans this evening?” Kurt asks. “I seem to have found myself with several free hours, and thought I’d see if you wanted to get a drink with me.” 

“Actually, yeah, that would be great,” Finn says. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Which is a bit ridiculous of us, isn’t it, since we’re in the same city. Is there a bar you prefer?”

Finn hums to himself, then asks, “Is that place where we all went after your graduation still open?”

“Oh, yes, I think so. It may have changed names, but it looks exactly the same. Meet you there in twenty minutes?” Kurt asks. 

“Sure. Sounds great.”

“I’ll see you there,” Kurt says, then hangs up, pocketing his phone and going to retrieve his coat and a scarf. He can’t really afford the calories to get drunk, but one or two drinks won’t hurt as long as he’s choosy. 

Kurt decides to walk once he gets outside, hands in his pockets, and it takes him exactly twenty minutes to reach the bar. He stops just inside the door, unwinding his scarf and unbuttoning his coat, and then walks over to Finn at the bar. 

“Hello, Finn,” Kurt says, sitting down on the stool next to Finn’s. 

“Hey,” Finn says, leaning over to grab Kurt into a seated bear hug. After releasing Kurt, Finn gives him a quick up and down look before frowning. “Have you been sick or something?”

Kurt tilts his head, confused. “No, why?” While he looks at Finn, he notes circles under Finn’s eyes, and Kurt also notices Finn’s put on a little weight. Not much, but enough that Kurt could see it immediately. 

“No reason, you just looked a little—it’s nothing,” Finn says. “So how’s Blaine? Still doing his residency?”

“Hoping for chief resident. I think.” Kurt frowns. “It turns out it’s not really a great deal like the _ER_ reruns I used to watch. I suppose I don’t need to ask how Rachel is—I’m sure she’s very excited about the tour.” 

“Yeah. Excited and really busy. She’s staying in _Carrie_ until the end of the month, starts rehearsals for her show next week, and then leaves for the tour,” Finn says. 

“Are you going with her? I suppose it’d be hard to get the time away,” Kurt asks. 

“Nah, I don’t really like going on tour,” Finn says. He shrugs, then nods at the bartender when he catches his eye. “I’m not working right now, so it’s not a time issue. I just hated the promotional tour after her first album, you know? Different hotel every night, it’s just not my thing.”

“Hmm,” Kurt says with a nod. “I can’t say that I blame you. I like falling asleep in the same place every night, more or less.”

“I mean, I’m happy for Rachel. I really am,” Finn says.

“No, I know, of course,” Kurt assures him. “I’ve always avoiding auditioning for touring shows for the same reason, though.” 

“You still doing _Dirty Dancing_?” Finn asks. 

“No, I left it for _Three Days_ ,” Kurt says. “I got to originate the role. It’s not a large one, but it’s mine.” 

“That’s great. That’s really great.” 

The bartender quickly takes their drink orders, and Kurt orders a low-calorie cocktail while Finn orders a beer. The two of them talk about nothing of much consequence through their first drinks, and then they order a second round while still discussing the MTA’s construction and repair schedule. 

When the conversation pauses, Kurt sighs. “What happened to us, Finn? Or at least, what happened to me? Maybe you’re doing better than I am.” Kurt doesn’t think Finn is, not from how he looks or sounds, but he supposes it’s possible. 

“Cutbacks in the district. Nobody can afford to keep a full time music or art teacher on staff anymore,” Finn says. “Rachel wanted me to look at some of the private schools, but most of those don’t really pay enough to make up for the travel costs, and most of those jobs were only part-time, anyway.”

“Not just that, though our professional lives aren’t exactly what we hoped, are they?” Kurt says, shaking his head. “It’s good I like my bed, like I said, because…” he trails off, strangely embarrassed. 

“Because?” Finn prompts.

“Because I’m usually the only one in it,” Kurt finally admits, lowering his voice somewhat. “I know that residency is hard and tiring, but it seems to get worse, not better, and even when Blaine is home, there’s… nothing.” Kurt shrugs before continuing. “Maybe it’s just being married for so long.” 

“Maybe,” Finn sighs. “I don’t know. I get where you’re coming from, at least. I’m on the couch at least half the time.”

Kurt frowns at Finn. “What? Why?” 

“We fight a lot.”

“Oh.” Kurt sighs again. “I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nothing much to talk about, really. She picks. She’s not _wrong_ , but she just picks,” Finn says. “I’ve lost my motivation. I don’t take care of myself.” He pauses and looks off to the side. “She’s just not that attracted to me looking like I look right now.”

“You know what happens to a doctor’s first spouse, don’t you?” Kurt says wryly. “We get traded in for younger models.” 

“That’s crazy,” Finn says, his frown deepening. “Blaine loves you.”

“Blaine hasn’t touched me in eight months,” Kurt says flatly. “And maybe you’re right about Rachel, though I doubt it, but surely Blaine isn’t as picky as a Broadway director. He just doesn’t care anymore.”

“Do you guys ever get away? Take a trip or something?” 

“‘There’ll be time for that in a few years, Kurt’,” Kurt parrots, imitating Blaine’s inflection. “‘We’ll go on a long trip, anywhere you want, just in another year or so’.” Kurt shakes his head. “It’s been several years now.”

“Yeah. We kept talking about taking a second honeymoon, but it never seemed to happen,” Finn says. “Now I don’t know when we’d fit that in, between the tour and the shows. When she gets back, I know she’ll want to start another album, another role.” He laughs bitterly and downs the rest of his drink. “Maybe you and I should go on a second honeymoon without ‘em.”

“I solemnly promise not to bring my phone to the dinner table,” Kurt says lightly, but he remembers how it stung, Blaine checking his email repeatedly at dinner, even on their honeymoon. 

“ _I_ promise I won’t drag you out to—what was it? Salsa dancing?”

Kurt shudders. “That was the _worst_. Why did they think we’d want to do that?”

“I looked like an absolute jackass out there, trying to do that,” Finn says. “Plus I got a blister on the back of my heel.”

“I just hated all of it, and both of them trying to correct the instructor was embarrassing,” Kurt says, waving down the bartender so they can each order another drink. 

“So, where did you really want to go?” Finn asks.

“Paris,” Kurt admits. “I wanted to see the Louvre, and go to little sidewalk cafes.” 

“I wanted to go to Maui,” Finn says. “Do one of those volcano tours, maybe snorkel with some dolphins. I kind of wanted to see what pineapple plants look like.”

“Behold the combined force of our spouses,” Kurt says, lifting his third cocktail. “I don’t think I ever heard Maui _or_ Paris mentioned as potential destinations.” 

“Yeah, once they got the Bahamas and resorts into their heads, that was it,” Finn agrees. 

“Do you regret it? I didn’t mind sharing the day with you, but sometimes I think I do mind that I shared Blaine with Rachel so much for it—the wedding, the reception, the honeymoon.”

“Sometimes,” Finn admits. “Sometimes I do. I’m just not a second guesser, though, so who knows if that would’ve made any kind of difference. I just thought it would all be... you know.”

“Different?” Kurt asks. “Better? More fulfilling?”

“All of that,” Finn says, slowly nodding his head. “More _anything_. I remembered something you said to me back in high school, the thing about being the person who carries Rachel’s purse on the red carpet.” He shrugs, the expression on his face one of utter defeat. 

Kurt exhales loudly, because he remembers that conversation, back when he thought things would be different. If Kurt’s completely honest, he thought he himself would be different. “I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Finn says. “I’m sorry about both of us.”

“Yes.” Kurt studies the bottom of his glass. “I suppose I should head home. Not that there’s anyone there. Except for that hideous hairless cat of Blaine’s, which I avoid as much as possible.” He sets his glass down and turns to Finn. “Well, Monday is my dark night, if you find yourself wanting company any Monday evening.” 

“Yeah, this was really nice,” Finn says. “We should do this again soon. Nice having somebody to talk to about something other than Broadway, music, and travel arrangements.”

“Likewise, though mine and Blaine’s conversations tend to center around resident politics and strange cases, usually involving body parts I didn’t know humans had.” 

“Well, that sounds gross.” Finn stands, pulling on his coat. “Want me to wait for you to snag a cab?”

“I walked,” Kurt admits, winding his scarf around his neck again. “Otherwise I would have been earlier.” He puts cash down on the bar, covering both their tabs, and then fastens his coat. Finn glances down at the money and raises his eyebrows. “You can get it next time,” Kurt says.

“I _will_ get it next time,” Finn corrects. 

“You _will_ , then,” Kurt agrees, the two of them walking outside. Kurt turns to Finn, rising up just enough to kiss Finn’s cheek as Finn turns. The outcome is that Kurt finds his lips landing on Finn’s lips, and Finn doesn’t shy away, just letting Kurt kiss him until Kurt pulls away, feeling flustered. “I’ll, ah, see you soon,” Kurt manages. 

“Yeah. Soon,” Finn replies, an odd expression on his face. 

Kurt nods once, then hurries in the opposite direction Finn takes, trying not to dwell on the thought that crossed his mind almost immediately. Finn kissed Kurt accidentally, but with more interest than Kurt’s own husband has shown in weeks.

***

Finn tries not to give the awkward, accidental kiss any thought, which of course means he thinks about it obsessively for the next week, up through Kurt’s phone call on the following Monday.

“Drinks tonight?” is the first thing Kurt says. “We can meet at the same place, or try something new.” 

“Sure. And anywhere is fine by me,” Finn says. 

“Well, let’s just go to the same place, then,” Kurt says. “They had a decent selection.” He pauses before continuing. “I trust you’ve had a pleasant week?”

“Yeah. Uneventful. You?”

“Similarly uneventful, yes. I’ll see you around eight?” 

“Okay,” Finn says. After he ends the call, he spends a little more time picking out what he’s going to wear than he did the previous week, and he tells himself it’s because it’ll be good for him to make an effort. Maybe just putting on something decent-looking and getting out of the apartment with some regularity will make Finn start to feel better about himself and the direction his life has headed.

Finn makes it to the bar at five ‘til eight, but Kurt’s already beaten him there and snagged two seats at the bar. Finn drapes his coat over the back of the barstool as he sits down next to Kurt. Kurt turns towards Finn with a smile. 

“I already ordered the first round,” Kurt informs him. “I hope the same beer as last week is fine?”

“Yeah, that’s great, thanks,” Finn says, giving Kurt a half-smile in return. “Don’t tell anybody, but I never could get into the whole microbrew thing, so I just picked one that was halfway decent and started ordering it like I knew something about beer.”

Kurt laughs. “I have two or three go-to cocktails for the same reason. One classic, one updated, and when I’m trying to impress, I’ll look up what’s trendy.”

“I’ve tried to keep up with the seasonal beers, but I can’t ever manage it,” Finn admits. 

“You aren’t drinking Miller Lite, at least,” Kurt says, turning to thank the bartender before picking up his drink. “A toast?”

“Here’s to two guys from Ohio who don’t drink like they’re in Ohio,” Finn says, clinking his beer to Kurt’s glass. 

Kurt smiles a little wider at that before taking a drink. “Indeed,” he says finally. “Have you talked to your mom or my dad lately? I’ve been putting off calling.” 

“Short talk with Mom a couple of weeks ago,” Finn says. “Rachel talks to her more often than me, since I don’t really have much in the way of new stuff going on.”

“Funny,” Kurt says. “I think Blaine and Dad email quite a bit. I’m not really sure if they still do, but especially the first few years after the wedding, Blaine knew more about Dad and Lima than I did.”

“I just got tired of having the same conversation over and over.”

“Let me guess. Grandkids?” Kurt asks wryly. 

“Nailed it,” Finn says. “Rachel made a lot of noise right after we got married about how after she’d done a few shows, then it was after the album, then maybe after the tour, but I don’t think she really wants to have them. I can’t argue with that, either, since I’m not so sure it would be a good idea for us to add kids to all of this.”

“I wouldn’t mind kids,” Kurt says wistfully. “But I think Blaine gets his fill of kids at work now. And while I think I could do an admirable job, it doesn’t seem fair to have a kid or two when I can’t promise they’d ever see their other parent.”

Finn nods. “Yeah, same.” The bartender walks by, and Finn orders a second drink for both of them.

“After we take that second honeymoon, the two of us can adopt,” Kurt jokes. 

“Yeah, that’d be fun to explain to the adoption agency,” Finn says, shaking his head as he laughs. “‘He’s my brother, and we’re adopting together. Well, not my _actual_ brother.’”

“We’ll have to come up with a better cover story,” Kurt says, laughing. “I don’t know, Finn,” he continues, sobering. “We’re about to turn thirty, and I have no idea where the better part of the last decade went. I’m so afraid I’m going to look up one day and be staring forty in the face, and not have anything more to show for it than I do today.” 

“I wouldn’t even mind not having much to show for it if I weren’t so damn lonely all the time,” Finn confesses. “I never had any big plans or anything, but I didn’t think I’d end up feeling like this all of the time.” He rests his elbow on the bar, propping his face on his hand, and sighs. 

“I never realized how many aspiring gay Broadway actors New York City actually housed,” Kurt says. “I spent the first nineteen years of my life thinking I was unique, and the following ten being sometimes rudely disabused of that notion.” 

“Well, _I_ still think you’re unique,” Finn says firmly. “You’re special, Kurt. You’re not like anybody else.”

“That’s sweet of you, Finn, but even I have to admit that evidence suggests otherwise,” Kurt says with a sigh that echoes Finn’s earlier one. “I should be grateful for the role I’m currently in. ‘Charles’. I originated the role of ‘Charles’. But there’s something missing.”

“Maybe you’re lonely, too?”

“Probably,” Kurt admits. “I don’t really go out after the show with the rest of the cast, but Blaine isn’t home, either.” 

“Last Monday was the first time I’d gone out with anybody in months,” Finn says.

“A city of millions, and here we are.” Kurt shakes his head, a very small smile on his face. “At least we’re out now.” Kurt flags down the bartender and orders another round, asking for the bartender to bring them another when those are gone. 

As the bartender sets Finn’s beer down in front of him, Finn tells Kurt, “I miss people. Not even specific people. Just being around people. Conversation, you know? Physical contact with other people.”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” Kurt agrees. “People who are at least marginally interested in my presence, and vice versa. Now I know why people actually miss high school. I don’t miss it, but the enforced closeness? That, I sometimes miss.” 

“People who want to be around you,” Finn says. “I miss the way it felt to look at somebody, and know they wanted to kiss me. I can’t even think of the last time Rachel kissed me.”

“I miss sex,” Kurt blurts out, then looks around to make sure no one else is paying them any attention. “I miss being naked with someone else.”

“God, me too,” Finn says. “I mean, hell, I don’t even mean I miss coming. I just miss that—is this going to be TMI or something?”

Kurt waves his hand and shakes his head. “Please, it’s us.”

Finn nods in agreement. “Yeah, okay. I just miss that feeling of being inside somebody, that first breath or two, when it’s just about being together like that.”

“That moment of connection. Yes.” Kurt sighs. “I know exactly what you mean.” 

“I just think it’s gone, you know? I don’t think I’m ever going to have that again,” Finn says.

Kurt takes a long drink before setting his glass down and staring at Finn. “I’ve thought about just—going out to a club,” he confesses. “After the show one night. Blaine wouldn’t notice what time I came in, because even if I go straight home, he’s asleep. If he makes it home at all. I could just see what happens, you know?” Kurt smiles sadly. “I almost wish I did suspect Blaine of cheating. It would make it easier. But I don’t.” 

“Yeah, I think Rachel’s just having a torrid affair with her career,” Finn says. “She was never super into sex or anything, but at least in the beginning she wanted it sometimes. Now she doesn’t even want to see me with my clothes off.”

“Blaine and I never quite managed to sync our expectations, but it was still better than nothing,” Kurt says with a very unKurtlike snort. “I have no idea if Blaine wants to see me with my clothes off or not. I know I haven’t even seen him in the shower in weeks. I know I’m supposed to be happy for him, that his residency makes him happy and is going well, and I am. I just thought being married might mean I’d see him sometimes. That he’d want to see me, and make an effort to.”

“I just don’t think I turned out to be the kind of husband Rachel wanted. She was hung up on the whole quarterback and glee club thing, and didn’t really think about what that would mean in the real world,” Finn says. “The reality of me being an out-of-shape, out-of-work elementary music teacher isn’t exactly the same thing as dating the quarterback.”

“Rachel never has been good at seeing reality, as much as I adore her,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “Sometimes I think Blaine might want a ‘doctor’s wife’ type. I don’t want to host parties or go pretend to care about their stories. I have my own career, unlike most of his fellow residents’ spouses.”

“At least when I was in better shape, she had something to show off,” Finn sighs. 

“Blaine really should take Rachel to one of his parties,” Kurt muses. “I haven’t been to one in months. Over a year, I think, because of work. And you’re hardly needing to sign up at the Weight Watchers on 23rd.” 

“I don’t look like an eighteen-year-old quarterback anymore, either,” Finn points out. “I think she really thought I’d always look like that.”

“Well, good lord, I’d hope not,” Kurt says. “You’d think she’d want you to look like a grown man. I’d hate to look like I did at eighteen.” 

“I just wish I could _feel_ like I did at eighteen, like I still had all this future in front of me. Like somebody wanted me.”

“Optimism, yes,” Kurt says, sounding wistful again. “Remember the summer before our senior year? I think we all thought we could do absolutely anything we wanted to.” 

“I felt like king at that school,” Finn says. “I really believed I’d end up with this awesome life. Instead, I’m the unemployed husband of somebody who’d rather be on tour than at home. I actually sneak out to eat hot dogs, Kurt. That’s my life now.”

“Sometimes I think the cruelest thing that happened to us was winning Nationals senior year,” Kurt confesses. “But I’d sneak out to eat hot dogs, too.” 

The bartender puts the last round of drinks Kurt ordered down in front of them. Finn drinks half of his beer in a few swallows, not able to meet Kurt’s eyes because if Kurt has the same defeated look in his eyes that Finn feels every day, Finn’s probably going to start crying like a big, fat baby. Instead, they both sit there in sad silence while they finish their drinks, neither of them looking at the other. 

“I guess we’d better head home,” Finn says, staring down at his empty glass. 

“I suppose so,” Kurt agrees, standing slowly. Finn fishes a couple of twenties out of his wallet and puts them down on the bar, standing and putting on his coat. 

“You okay?” Finn asks, when he notices Kurt is a little unsteady on his feet. Now that Finn thinks about it, four drinks in a short period of time—all going into a Kurt who easily weighs fifteen pounds, maybe even twenty, less than he did at his wedding—is a lot of alcohol. 

“I’m fine,” Kurt insists, but he leans on Finn for a moment before continuing to walk out of the bar. “Maybe I’ll take a cab,” he concedes once they’re outside on the sidewalk. 

“Yeah, I think that’d be a good idea,” Finn says in agreement, putting an arm around Kurt. “I’ll wait for a cab with you. I’ll even hail one for you.”

“Okay,” Kurt says, turning to smile up at Finn. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Can’t leave you out here in the cold with four drinks in you,” Finn says, though even if Kurt hadn’t had a little too much to drink, it would still feel nice for Finn to stand there with his arm around Kurt. When a cab starts to approach, Finn puts up his free arm and waves. The cab stops at the curb, and Finn directs Kurt to the cab door, opening it for him. 

“Thank you, Finn,” Kurt says a little too precisely. “Next week?”

“Yeah, same time, same channel,” Finn agrees. He’s about to release Kurt to let him get into to the cab, when suddenly some weird impulse hits him, and he pulls Kurt against him, pressing his lips to Kurt’s. 

Kurt kisses him back, relaxing against Finn for the duration of the kiss. After a minute or so, Finn realizes this might not be the best idea, no matter how good it feels, and he pulls away from Kurt slowly. 

“Don’t let anybody make you think you aren’t amazing,” Finn says as he gently pushes Kurt towards the open cab door. Kurt gives Finn a sad smile, waving with one hand as Finn closes the cab. After the cab pulls away, Finn stands on the curb, watching the cab go, until he shakes his head and makes himself turn away, walking back towards his empty apartment.

 

_Kurt unlocks the apartment door and holds it open for Finn silently, closing it behind them but not worrying about the privacy lock. He used to lock it, to give them a few minutes should Blaine arrive home early, but he doesn’t worry about that anymore. Kurt and Finn walk down the dimly lit hallway, and Kurt doesn’t touch a lightswitch until they’re in the bedroom. Munchy always hides from Finn, but Kurt doesn’t even hear him moving._

_The bed is unmade, sheets still rumpled from when Kurt got up late that morning for a small brunch alone at the corner bistro. When it started, Kurt would change the sheets carefully, making sure that Blaine would have no reason to suspect anyone had been in the apartment but Kurt himself. Now Kurt doesn’t; he wishes Blaine would notice, and more than that, some part of him still wishes Blaine would_ care _if he noticed, that he would fight for Kurt._

_Kurt wonders how long he’ll stay with Blaine physically, because his mind is already gone, but he knows it could be years yet. He starts to remove his clothes almost methodically, his eyes on Finn. Finn unbuckles his belt and undoes his jeans; they slide off him more easily than they did a few months ago. Kurt smiles as his own pants hit the floor, and he steps out of them as he crawls onto the bed, reaching into the drawer of his bedside table to pull out the lube. Blaine hasn’t noticed the lube being used, either._

_Finn crawls onto the bed, too, moving until his body is over Kurt’s, pressing him down into the mattress as Finn starts to kiss Kurt, the hurried, hungry kissing like he’s the only person Finn can think about. Finn’s hands travel down Kurt’s sides, stroking his thighs before moving back up again._

_“Mmm,” Kurt says with a deep sigh, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feel of Finn’s hands against his skin. He reaches to the side with one hand, pouring lube on his own hand and then taking Finn’s hand in his. Finn’s hand moves from Kurt’s hand, wrapping around Kurt’s cock and slowly stroking it as he kisses Kurt again._

_Kurt puts his hand on Finn’s cock, moving his hand slowly up and down, and he puts his other arm around Finn’s neck, his fingers playing in Finn’s hair. Finn breaks the kiss, pulling away and staring down into Kurt’s eyes, looking like he always does, like he’s waiting for Kurt to say or do something. Like always, Kurt doesn’t know what to say, so he keeps moving his hand on Finn’s cock and leans up to kiss Finn again. He’s pretty sure that there’s not really anything to say, nothing that makes what they’re doing acceptable._

_After two or three minutes of looking for an answer Kurt can’t give him, Finn pushes Kurt’s legs up and slowly slides inside him, closing his eyes. Kurt stares at Finn’s face, his hands as still as the rest of his body, and he fights the impulse to tell Finn that everything is okay, everything is fine, because it isn’t, but for a few moments, it doesn’t seem quite so impossible to think it could be._

_Kurt keeps staring up at Finn until his eyes open, and Kurt gives him a small smile. Finn cups the side of Kurt’s face with one hand as he starts to move, pulling back slowly and pushing back inside again._

_“You always feel so good,” Finn says quietly._

_“So do you,” Kurt answers, his voice just a little louder than Finn’s. He misses Finn when Finn is gone, in fact, but he’s not sure that he should say that aloud._

_“I’m so sorry,” Finn whispers, like he often does. “I’m so sorry it’s like this. I’m so sorry it has to be like this.” He kisses Kurt in between the words, still moving almost too slowly._

_“We should stop,” Kurt says halfheartedly, meaning the words but unable or unwilling to follow through with any action other than kissing Finn and letting Finn fuck him. He lets Finn fuck him in the same bed Kurt shares with his husband, and while Finn’s inside him, Kurt doesn’t even_ care _._

_“I know,” Finn agrees. “It needs to stop. We need to stop.” He starts fucking Kurt a little faster, pulling back until he’s almost sliding out of Kurt before slamming back into him. “But things are only good when I’m inside you,” he whispers against Kurt’s lips, his voice catching. It sounds like Finn’s praying, almost, only Kurt isn’t sure who he’s praying to._

_“After this,” Kurt says. “We’ll stop. I shouldn’t do this to Blaine. We’ll stop.” He thrusts up to meet each of Finn’s movements. “Don’t stop.”_

_“I won’t, I won’t stop,” Finn promises._

_“Good,” Kurt murmurs, kissing Finn to keep himself from saying anything else for a few moments at least. “I’m a horrible person.”_

_“Shh. No. No,” Finn says. “Don’t.” He moves his mouth to Kurt’s ear, his breath warm against it. “Shhhh, don’t.” Finn’s tongue traces around the edge of Kurt’s ear, then down the side of Kurt’s neck. “You’re not. It’s me. I’m horrible.”_

_“No, no,” Kurt protests. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I—ahhh, do that again,” Kurt says breathlessly. “I’m sorry I’m so weak.”_

_Finn repeats the movement of his hips, rolling them again. “No, you’re not weak. God, Kurt, no, you’re so amazing. I’m the one making you do this. I’m doing this to you.”_

_“You feel so good,” Kurt says, a whimper in his voice. Whatever else any of it means, Kurt can’t deny in his own head the fact that he and Finn are far more sexually compatible than he and Blaine ever were. He enjoys Monday nights too much, enjoys them enough that despite his resolve to stop afterwards, by every Thursday or Friday he tries to think of excuses to see Finn again._

_“I should take you away,” Finn says. His hand travels from Kurt’s face down to his cock, stroking Kurt in time to his thrusts._

_“Away from here,” Kurt says, not entirely sure if he’s agreeing with Finn’s sentiment or arguing that Finn already is, in a manner of speaking. “It’s so horrible, I know, I shouldn’t, I just want you to keep touching me,” he says, pushing into Finn’s hand._

_“I want to keep touching you,” Finn says, sounding desperate, nearly broken. “I don’t want to stop, I don’t ever want to stop._ Fuck _, Kurt, we have to stop. We have to stop all this.”_

_“I know,” Kurt whispers. “We will. We’ll stop after this.” He knows they won’t, but he says it anyway, trying to convince himself as much as Finn. “We’ll stop.”_

_“After this. Just this one more time,” Finn agrees._

_Kurt nods, kissing Finn almost violently as he feels himself start to come, thrusting up into Finn’s hand with his entire body in the movement. Finn lets out a choked cry, slamming into Kurt harder and faster, until he comes, too, his forehead resting against Kurt’s. Kurt feels moisture dripping onto his face, and he keeps his eyes closed, telling himself that it’s just sweat._

 

On the third Monday after Kurt and Finn reconnected, Kurt doesn’t call Finn. He sends a text that says ‘see you at eight’, and at twenty-five before eight, Kurt leaves his apartment, arriving at the bar with enough time to watch Finn walk in. He doesn’t look as dejected as he has, his head up and his shoulders not curled forward, and Kurt smiles as soon as he catches Finn’s eye. 

“I think the bartender remembers us now,” Kurt says once Finn is within earshot, gesturing to the bar where their drinks are already waiting. 

“Worse things could happen,” Finn says. He catches Kurt by the coat, slowly easing it off Kurt’s shoulder and then hanging it on the back of Kurt’s seat before taking off his own coat. 

“Thank you,” Kurt says as he sits. “So what’s new and exciting in your world? Or new and boring, if you’re like me.” 

“You know that NYAC up on Central Park South?”

“The New York Athletic Club?” Kurt asks to clarify as he nods. 

“Yeah. I got a membership,” Finn says. “I guess I got tired of feeling sorry for myself about how out of shape I am.”

“More importantly, are you enjoying it?” 

“Yeah, I am, actually! I always liked the routine in high school. It clears my head.”

“That’s excellent news, then,” Kurt says, raising his glass in Finn’s direction before taking a sip. “My own week seems even more boring by comparison.” 

“Oh yeah? Tell me about your week. I want to hear it,” Finn demands. 

“Other than work, the only thing I really did was buy a new slipcover for the sofa,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes at himself. “Oh, I did make myself a _fantastic_ Eggs Benedict on Saturday morning, too.” 

“Eggs Benedict is exciting,” Finn says. “I love Eggs Benedict.”

“I’ll make it for you sometime,” Kurt promises. “I don’t really know how to make just enough for one person, anyway, so as it was, some of it went to waste.” He sighs and forces himself to attempt to smile, trying not to dwell on the fact that it was yet another Saturday morning Blaine promised to be home but didn’t follow through. 

Finn frowns. “That’s too bad. I hate to waste food.”

“Me too. So has Rachel left for her tour yet? I couldn’t remember the exact date.”

“No, not for another week and a half, not that I’m actually seeing her at all,” Finn says. “She’s in rehearsals for the tour all morning, then still performing at night. She’s looking forward to going, though. First stop’s out in Los Angeles.”

“Well, good for her,” Kurt says with a nod. “I’m sure she’ll enjoy it. Ticket sales going well?”

“Oh yeah. First three venues are sold out already. I’m proud of her,” Finn says. He gives Kurt a crooked, slightly sad smile. “I’m happy for her, too. I’m just not, you know...”

“Happy _with_ her?” Kurt fills in. “A few months back, I was supposed to meet Blaine for lunch. Something came up—it nearly always does—but I saw him working, and, well, that’s why I don’t nag him about missed breakfasts.” 

“It’s just hard being the thing they love second best,” Finn says, sighing. “Or third. Or fourth.”

“Yes. That’s it exactly.” Kurt smiles sadly. “Sometimes I envy Blaine that drive. I _like_ performing, but I don’t love it the way he loves medicine. Or the way Rachel loves performing.”

“You just wish he’d get the same look on his face when he sees you as he does when he’s at work?” Finn asks. “Yeah, it’s been a long time since I’ve had that, too.”

“Even when he’s home, his mind is at the hospital. It’s what makes him so good at it. It’s just not what I thought marriage was going to be.” Kurt shrugs. “I suppose what those magazines and websites say is true. Less focus on the wedding and more on the marriage. No one believes it until years after the wedding, though.” 

The bartender brings another round of drinks without being asked, and Finn picks up his beer. “To loving what you’re good at,” he says darkly. 

“To being good to what you love,” Kurt counters, raising his second cocktail. 

Finn drinks his beer quickly, then sets the glass down. “I’m going to hit the restroom. I’ll be right back.” He stands and heads off down the narrow hallway. Kurt remains at the bar, finishing his own drink and then decides to make use of the restroom himself. 

He’s halfway to the restroom door when it opens and Finn comes out of it. Kurt instinctively moves to one side, but the hallway isn’t really wide enough for two grown men to pass. Finn brushes against Kurt’s chest, then takes a step forward, crushing Kurt back against the wall. He stares down at Kurt with intense, unreadable eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” Finn says, a note of pleading in his voice. Kurt doesn’t, though, and holds his gaze with Finn’s without blinking or looking to the side. Finn braces his arm on the wall next to Kurt’s head and leans in, kissing Kurt forcefully. 

Kurt still doesn’t tell Finn to stop, and he doesn’t push Finn away, because as much as he knows he shouldn’t, he wants it and is enjoying it, the wall against his back and Finn’s height shielding his front. He reaches up almost involuntarily, curling his fingers in Finn’s shirt and holding him in place. 

The kiss goes on a long time, Finn’s lips pressing against Kurt’s and their tongues moving together. Finn’s body pushes Kurt into the wall, and Kurt gasps a little into Finn’s mouth when he feels Finn’s cock hard against him. 

“Excuse me,” a voice cuts into their moment. “I need to get through.”

Finn tears his mouth away from Kurt’s, eyes glazed. “Oh. Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, then turns and pushes past the man standing at the opening of the hallway. Kurt follows at a slower pace, and he can see Finn slapping money onto the bar before hurrying out the front door. 

When Kurt gets outside to hail a cab, Finn is nowhere to be seen, and Kurt tries not to think about the kiss on his short ride home. Calling it a kiss seems wrong, somehow, because Kurt has no idea how long they were in the hallway kissing. Kurt goes straight to his kitchen and makes himself a double martini, drinking it too quickly before going into the shower and jerking off, trying desperately the entire time not to think of how large and how hard Finn felt against Kurt’s lower stomach while they kissed. 

It doesn’t work, and Kurt goes straight to bed after his shower, as if pulling the sheets over his head can make the world truly go away.

***

Rachel is home all day the following Monday, packing for her tour leaving on Wednesday, so it’s easy for Finn to justify not calling Kurt, for not planning to meet him at the bar again. Around two in the afternoon, Kurt sends ‘Are you free tonight?’ and nothing else via text.

“Who’s that?” Rachel asks. The bedroom is a jumble of shoes, dresses, and jewelry, arranged into outfits on every surface. 

“It’s nothing,” Finn says. “It’s Kurt.”

“Oh? How’s he doing? I feel like we haven’t seen him or Blaine for ages!”

“Yeah, he’s okay. Blaine’s gone a lot, working at the hospital,” Finn says. “Me and Kurt have been meeting up for drinks on Monday.”

“That’s good,” Rachel says from inside the closet. A bag flies out and lands on the floor, followed by a shoebox. “Are you going tonight?”

“You’re leaving on Wednesday, so I thought I should probably—”

“Actually, I’m heading out in about an hour. I have to go over the itinerary with the backup singers. Natalie can’t make the southwestern leg of the tour, so we’re trying to rearrange some travel.”

“You’ll be back later this evening, though, right?” Finn asks. 

“No, it’ll probably be pretty late,” Rachel says. “Aha! Found it!” She emerges from the closet with another shoe box, which she sets on top of a long blue dress. “Go have your drink with Kurt. Tell him and Blaine I love them!”

“Okay,” Finn says. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” He sends a quick text back to Kurt that says ‘I’ll see you at 8’.

Rachel leaves just after three, giving Finn a cursory peck on the cheek. Finn spends the next four and a half hours trying to talk himself out of meeting Kurt at eight, but by 7:45, Finn is walking into the bar to claim his and Kurt's usual seats, ordering their usual drinks.

Kurt arrives just a few minutes before eight, sitting down and smiling warmly at Finn. “I wasn’t sure if you’d have something to do with Rachel tonight,” he says lightly, “but it’s nice to see you.” 

"She had tour stuff to do," Finn says. "It's nice to see you, too."

“Ahh, I see,” Kurt says, picking up his cocktail and taking a drink. “I trust you not to slip something in it,” he jokes as he sets the glass down on the bar again. “I went to a small party for one of the shows I was in a few years ago, and it was so bizarre. Everyone held onto their own drink with a death grip.” 

"I'd never—" Finn begins, but Kurt interrupts him. 

“Oh, I know you wouldn’t,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “Probably the one person I’m certain wouldn’t, in fact.” 

Finn closes his eyes tightly, forcing himself not to argue out loud with Kurt's profession of trust. "Kurt, look, what I did last week, I'm so sorry, that was completely out of line," Finn says.

“There were two of us in the hallway,” Kurt says quietly, taking another sip of his drink. “If I’d asked you to stop, if I’d pushed you away, you would have stopped.” 

Finn nods his agreement. "I put you into a bad situation, though. I know things have been rough for you, but I don't want to make them worse. I just..." He sighs and picks up his beer large swallow.

“You didn’t. You aren’t.” Kurt pauses, ducking his head a little. “After all, you didn’t follow me home, did you?” 

"No, I wouldn't do that to you!" Finn insists. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt you or upset you."

“No, no, you misunderstand,” Kurt says, his cheeks turning pink. “I meant—well, if you were out of line, I was certainly out of line later, so I think we’re more than square.”

Finn furrows his brow in confusion. "What happened later?"

“I shouldn’t have,” Kurt says, “but it was just—no one’s _wanted_ me in so long, I couldn’t help thinking about it.” 

"What—" Finn moistens his suddenly-dry lips. "What did you do that you shouldn't have?"

“The double martini was probably ill-advised, but then I suppose my inhibitions were quite lowered.” Kurt turns to look at Finn for just a second, then drops his gaze again. “I thought about _you_. Not Blaine. Not even some hot celebrity. You.” 

"Yeah?" Finn asks, his voice sounding strangely breathy. "And you—it was good?"

“It was,” Kurt confesses, his cheeks getting pinker. “I, um. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have.” 

"No, it's my fault. If I hadn't kissed you..." Finn trails off, looking away from Kurt. "I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't still want to do it."

“No, I was taking advan—you still want to?” Kurt asks, his voice getting higher at the end of the sentence, like he can’t quite control it. Finn bites his lower lip and nods, not able to meet Kurt's eyes. “Oh,” Kurt breathes, and his hand hovers near Finn’s before dropping down next to it on the bar, their pinky fingers brushing together. Another minute passes before Kurt speaks again. “We shouldn’t do that right here.” 

"No," Finn agrees. "We shouldn't. It's not the right thing to do." He looks around the bar and shakes his head. "And so many people."

“Right. Not the right thing,” Kurt repeats, but his eyes follow Finn’s around the bar. “Too many people here.” He takes a deep breath and moves his hand closer to Finn’s. “Finn?”

"Yeah?" Finn asks. He feels like he's holding his breath, waiting for Kurt to say whatever it is he's going to say.

“I have some beer at my apartment. My empty apartment.” 

Finn realizes he's already nodding. "Yeah, let's go drink that."

Kurt stands up immediately, putting down cash for their drinks and walking outside the bar to hail a cab. "I can show you that new slipcover," Kurt says with a little mocking laugh as a cab stops for them.

“Yeah, that’ll be good,” Finn answers, quietly enough that he’s not even entirely sure Kurt heard him. He opens the cab door for Kurt and then slides into the cab behind him. Kurt puts his hand on top of Finn’s once they’re both in the cab, speaking only to give the driver his address. Kurt pays for the cab and then leads Finn inside the building and to the elevator. Once they’re inside, Kurt presses a button and turns to face Finn, staring at him silently. 

Finn doesn’t try to fill up the silence with any conversation. He watches Kurt watching him until the elevator stops at the 7th floor. Kurt nods once, like he’s having some kind of conversation with himself, and goes to the third apartment from the elevator, unlocking the door and pushing it open. 

“Sit down,” he murmurs, gesturing to the sofa. “I’ll get us each a drink.” He disappears through a doorway, and Finn can hear the sound of a bottle being opened and liquid being poured before Kurt returns with a beer in one hand and what looks like a martini in the other.

“Thanks,” Finn says, taking the beer from Kurt. Finn sits uncomfortably on the sofa, which, new slipcover or not, is too small for someone Finn’s size. Kurt sits down next to Finn, his leg pressing against Finn, and he takes a long sip before setting his glass down on the coffee table and turning to Finn. 

“Finn?” Kurt says, one eyebrow barely raised. “Like you said—tell me if I should stop.” 

Finn nods, and barely has time to set his beer down next to Kurt’s glass before Kurt kisses him, lips pressing hard into Finn’s and Kurt’s hands on either side of Finn’s head, holding him in place. It’s not an accidental kiss, or a drunk kiss, or even a desperate kiss; it’s a take-me-to-the-bed-and-fuck-me kiss. Finn leans forward, pushing Kurt back until he’s lying on the too-small sofa with Finn on top of him. 

Kurt’s head moves a little, like he’s nodding, and one of his legs wraps around Finn, pulling Kurt’s body up against Finn. Finn responds by rocking his hips, pressing against Kurt, both of them hard. Kurt gasps into the kiss, one hand sliding through Finn’s hair, and he moves with Finn’s rocking hips. Finn buries both his hands in Kurt’s hair, cradling Kurt’s head in his hands, both his arms under Kurt’s back now. 

The other of Kurt’s hands runs down Finn’s back, resting near Finn’s waist for several moments before Kurt starts tugging at Finn’s shirt, trying to untuck it. When Kurt’s fingertips brush against Finn’s bare lower back, Finn freezes, his body stiffening. He starts to pull away, realizes his hands are still in Kurt’s hair, and lets his hands drop away from Kurt’s head, finally pulling back from Kurt.

“Stop,” Finn breathes. “Oh, shit, Kurt, stop. You’re married. _I’m_ married.”

Kurt exhales slowly, his eyes wide and staring up at Finn. He nods after a bit, his arms slowly falling to his sides. “Okay,” he says softly. 

Finn sits back, raking his hands through his own hair as he takes a deep breath. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt says. “I shouldn’t have—it’s not your fault.” 

“No, I’m sorry, I just—I’m sorry, Kurt,” Finn says. He stands up and gives the apartment one more quick glance before he turns for the door, opening it and then closing it behind him without looking back at Kurt again. Finn rides the elevator back down, feeling like an idiot, a coward, and the worst kind of deceitful person possible. That doesn’t stop him from thinking about Kurt’s body underneath him, the way Kurt’s cock pressed up into Finn’s hip, or how the only thing worse than the guilt of what they almost did is the empty feeling in his stomach at walking away.

 

_Finn likes fucking Kurt on Kurt and Blaine’s dirty sheets, because it just puts everything they’re doing right there, front and center. Their spouses may not be around often, but they exist, and the risk and the guilt heighten each other and make everything that much more erotic. The guiltier Finn feels, the better the sex feels, because fucking Kurt is the only thing that calms the guilt that fucking Kurt creates._

_Kurt’s fingers twist into the bunched-up sheets underneath him as Finn pushes Kurt’s face down against the mattress, fucking him from behind with his hand on the back of Kurt’s head. Kurt whines into the bed, his ass rocking back with each of Finn’s thrusts. “Yeah, that’s—we’ll stop after this time,” Kurt says. “Just like that.”_

_“We have to stop,” Finn agrees, closing his eyes as Kurt shifts under him, moving his legs forward so Finn can push in deeper. A bead of sweat rolls down Kurt’s bare back. “Can’t keep doing this, can’t keep lying like this, can’t—fuck, Kurt, you’re so fucking_ tight _like this!”_

_“It feels so good,” Kurt says, sounding almost defiant. “I won’t lie. We’ll stop. But I won’t lie.”_

_“I know, I know you won’t, I’m the liar,” Finn pants. The hand on the back of Kurt’s head tightens in his hair, Finn’s other hand holding onto Kurt’s hip._

_“I shouldn’t do this to you,” Kurt says, then he catches his breath and almost hisses, “Fuck me, harder.”_

_“I will,” Finn promises. “I will, but then it has to stop, I can’t keep doing this to you, I can’t keep making you like me. I don’t want you to be a liar like me.” He pounds into Kurt harder, letting the hand on Kurt’s hip slip around to barely brush against Kurt’s cock._

_“Not a liar, just a cheater,” Kurt says, still sounding defiant. “We’ll, yes, we’ll stop after this. Oh,_ fuck _, that’s it, there.”_

_“Yeah, right there, you’re gonna come for me, all over this bed,” Finn demands, then says, “I’m so sorry, Kurt, come for me.” Kurt comes with a low cry, his face still half-buried in the mattress, and he doesn’t move afterwards. Finn keeps thrusting into Kurt for another few minutes before he comes, too, his fingers tight in Kurt’s hair._

_Finn leans forward so his lips are barely touching Kurt’s ear. “I’m so sorry, Kurt,” he whispers, then he slides out of Kurt, stands up, gets dressed, and walks out of the apartment without another word._

 

The next Monday, Kurt isn’t sure if Finn will be meeting Kurt at the bar, but he goes about his Monday as if he is, in fact, meeting Finn. He cooks dinner for two, like he does almost every night, because the leftovers do usually disappear, going with Blaine for lunch or dinner at the hospital the next day instead of being eaten warm at their apartment. Kurt tries not to think about that most of the time, how aside from his performances, his life does look disturbingly like that of a stay-at-home doctor’s spouse, cleaning the apartment and preparing food that is never eaten when freshly prepared. 

Kurt jumps when he hears a key in the door just as he’s finishing dinner, and he admits he’s surprised when Blaine appears in the kitchen doorway a few minutes later. “Blaine!” Kurt says. “I wasn’t expecting you for dinner, but you’re just in time.” 

“Surprise!” Blaine says with a smile. He crosses the room and Kurt turns to kiss him, but Blaine shifts at the last moment to kiss Kurt on the cheek. “What’s for dinner?”

“Chicken and pasta,” Kurt answers, serving Blaine a somewhat larger portion than he takes for himself. “Sit down, sit down. How’s the hospital?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful,” Blaine answers, and he starts talking about patients—without names, naturally—and fellow residents and his favorite attending doctors. Kurt recognizes some of the names from previous stories, but for the most part he nods in the appropriate places as they eat their dinner. 

Kurt pauses halfway through his serving to pick up his phone, because he should let Finn know for certain that he won’t be at the bar. He’s still typing when Blaine stops talking mid-story and looks at Kurt curiously. 

“Who is it?”

“Oh, I’ve been meeting Finn most Mondays for a drink or two,” Kurt answers. “I think I mentioned it a few weeks ago. I wanted to let him know I wouldn’t be there.” 

“You should go,” Blaine says, looking sheepish. “I really should review some charts and a few tricky cases before tomorrow. I won’t be much company after dinner, even if I manage to not go back to the hospital.” He reaches for Kurt’s phone and gently removes it from Kurt’s hand, setting it back on the table. “What else have you been up to? How’s the show?”

“The show is fine,” Kurt says. “One of our principals may leave soon.”

“Oh, that reminds me about the weirdest case!” Blaine says suddenly, looking excited again. “We had a Cirque performer come in, only he didn’t tell us at first that he was with Cirque de Soleil. It made diagnosing him so much more difficult. A thorough medical history is so important, Kurt, you just wouldn’t believe what a difference it makes!”

“No, probably not,” Kurt murmurs, but Blaine just nods and continues with his story. When they do finish eating, Blaine goes to sit on the sofa, reviewing the charts he mentioned, or so Kurt assumes. Kurt cleans the table and the kitchen, frowning a little to himself when he finishes. 

When it’s fifteen minutes before eight, Kurt picks up his coat, scarf, and gloves, and startles when Blaine takes his coat from him and holds it out. “I’m going to head back to the hospital myself,” Blaine says after he helps Kurt into his coat. “Have a good evening with Finn, okay?”

“I will,” Kurt says, leaning in to give Blaine a quick kiss, which leaves Kurt feeling unsettled as he walks towards the bar. Blaine was distracted, Kurt knows, but the kiss still left Kurt feeling like there was no one on the other side of it. Blaine’s lips were warm, but otherwise Kurt could have been kissing an inanimate object, almost. 

Kurt doesn’t arrive at the bar until nearly ten minutes after eight, and he smiles at Finn in a way that he hopes is apologetic. “I walked,” he says, “and Blaine was home for dinner.”

“Oh, that must’ve been nice,” Finn says, and even though his tone isn’t at all sarcastic, he still sounds insincere.

“Mmmhmm,” Kurt agrees as he sits down. “It’s so good to know that everything in life can relate back to at least one patient in a single Manhattan hospital, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Finn says. 

“Did you order our drinks already?” Kurt asks. “I feel more like I need a drink than I do most nights.” 

“I wasn’t sure you were really coming,” Finn admits. “I told the bartender to wait and see.”

Kurt waves down the bartender with a little smile, instructing him to go ahead and bring Kurt two drinks from the beginning. “It’s important to review charts,” he says flatly. “If I reviewed choreography even half as often, the rest of the cast would detest me.” 

“I guess it’s good to have something to feel that passionate about,” Finn says. 

“I suppose so,” Kurt says, picking up his first martini and drinking it far too quickly. “I don’t think everyone gets that, though. The all-consuming passion for just one thing.” 

“Maybe not.” Finn drinks his beer without any additional commentary, gesturing to their drinks when the bartender passes again. 

“I cook dinner every night,” Kurt says, staring at the bar and not at Finn. “I cook for two, because cooking for one is depressing and harder, too. And almost every night, I put half of the food in a Tupperware container, and when I get up the next day, it’s gone, because Blaine will take it and warm it up at the hospital. I fucking cook dinner for him to take leftovers to the hospital.” 

“Rachel left for the tour on Wednesday. She’s checked in once. It was a text, and it said ‘sold out the Hollywood Bowl’.” 

“That’s impressive,” Kurt says, taking another long drink and relishing the slight burn of the alcohol. “We have such impressive spouses, don’t we?”

Finn downs the second beer, and catches the bartender’s attention. “I’ll have one of what he’s having when you bring him another one,” Finn says, then turns back to towards Kurt. “She’s got an article about her framed in the bedroom. It calls her the ‘Chenoweth of our generation’, which is apparently a big deal.”

Kurt laughs in spite of himself. “I’ve seen some papers left around the apartment, about fellowships. Post-residency. I guess I thought he’d just become staff at a hospital here in New York. I guess there’s always something new?” 

“Is he looking outside the city?” Finn asks. The bartender sets their martinis down in front of them.

“There’s at least one international one, and I know I’ve always heard Stanford and UCLA mentioned as prestigious.” Kurt sighs and lifts his martini, nodding at the bartender. “I’ll want another one,” he says before taking a drink. “Blaine will be a great doctor. He may make new discoveries or something.”

“What about you?” Finn asks in a low voice. “Would you go with him? Do you _want_ to go with him?”

Kurt takes another drink of his martini before setting it down and turning to look at Finn. “New York’s my home. I don’t want to leave it. And no. I wouldn’t go.” 

“Would you...” Finn’s words trail off and he stares down at his martini, frowning.

“Would I what? Try to keep him from going?” Kurt asks, shaking his head in answer. 

“Leave him,” Finn says. “Would you leave him, if he went?”

Kurt knows the smile on his face is bitter and unhappy. “I think he’d be leaving me, wouldn’t he? If you mean, would I consider it over? Yes. I won’t spend two or three or more years living in a different city than the man I’m married to.” 

Finn nods. “So you’re just waiting him out?”

“Maybe he’s just curious. Maybe he won’t apply. Maybe he’ll apply and not receive the fellowship. Maybe he’d decide to stay in New York even if he did. I have to imagine he’s not completely given up, at least for now.” 

“And if he stays in New York, you’ll just, what?” Finn asks. “Stay married. Stay unhappy?”

Kurt shrugs as he takes a drink. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe things really will be different after the residency is over. Or maybe the dark corners of my mind are right.” 

“Yeah? What do they say?”

“That I don’t know _how_ to be anything, except in relation to Blaine. That I don’t know how not to be Blaine’s husband. The unknown is as frightening as the present is bleak.”

Finn nods and finishes his martini, indicating to the bartender that he’d like another. When Finn doesn’t speak for a moment, Kurt takes another drink of his own martini and then raises an eyebrow inquiringly. 

“And you? Why do you stay?”

Finn shrugs. “It’s the only thing I haven’t failed at yet.”

“Hmm.” Kurt stares at the empty martini glass in front of him as he signals for another, wondering exactly how many he’s had. “If you could have just one thing that would work out, magically, what would it be?” he asks after the latest martini arrives. 

“I don’t even know anymore, Kurt,” Finn says, then sighs. “Maybe I could start small. You and me could go on that second honeymoon our spouses don’t want.”

“That would be fun,” Kurt says a little wistfully. “We could work on that cover story for the adoption agency, too.” 

“Hell, I might even settle for a puppy. Easier to fake the paperwork.”

“A cat with actual hair,” Kurt says with a shudder. “I know Blaine can’t help having an allergy, but that hairless thing is vile-looking.” Sometimes Kurt thinks about getting a pet of his own, even if it’s just a few fish. A bowl of neon tetras, if he could keep them safe from the cat.

“What the hell kind of name is ‘Munchy’, anyway?” Finn snorts, toying with the cocktail napkin under his martini glass. 

“Short for Munchausen, which makes me wonder sometimes,” Kurt confesses, then giggles. “How many martinis have I had?”

“Four? Six?” Finn says, looking at his own martini. “Is this two or three for me?”

“I don’t know.” Kurt runs his finger around the edge of his glass. “You should help me home, Finn. Make sure I get into bed.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Finn says. 

Kurt frowns. “Why not? I’m pretty sure I’m drunk.”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure that if I put you into bed, I’m not leaving,” Finn says, “and I’m not sure either one of us is really ready for what that turns us into.”

“I think _I_ am,” Kurt mutters under his breath, but he nods and drains the last of his martini. 

“Tell me that when you’re sober, and you can promise you won’t hate me after.”

“Oh, I couldn’t hate you,” Kurt assures Finn, standing up carefully. “Maybe more like six.” 

Finn reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of bills, placing them on the bar. “Yeah, how about I’ll help you get a cab?” He stands, putting a hand on Kurt’s back to steady him. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Kurt concedes, leaning against Finn. “Next week?”

“Monday’s the only thing I’ve got to look forward to,” Finn says in agreement. He puts his arm around Kurt and walks him out of the bar, stopping outside the door. 

Kurt steps to the side and pulls Finn with him, backing up until Kurt’s back hits the wall, and then Kurt starts kissing Finn, hard and a little bit sloppy. Finn doesn’t try to pull away, either. He wraps both his arms around Kurt and holds him tightly, and Finn’s five o’clock shadow scrapes across Kurt’s skin as the kiss gets rougher. Kurt’s hands clench on Finn’s coat as Finn’s fingers dig into Kurt, and Kurt pushes himself against Finn as he pulls away enough to speak. 

“Take me home to bed,” Kurt says, almost begging. “You _want_ me.”

“God, I want you. I want to,” Finn replies, with his lips still on Kurt’s. “But I can’t. Kurt, I _can’t_. We can’t do this. We’ll just hate ourselves tomorrow.”

“We’ll hate ourselves tomorrow anyway,” Kurt says flippantly, but he starts to walk unsteadily towards the cab that’s stopped nearby. “I’m going to think about you,” he informs Finn. 

“Yeah, I’m going to think about you, too,” Finn says. “I already do.”

Kurt smiles at that, climbing into the cab and resting his head against the back of the seat. “Next week, Finn,” he says, closing his eyes.

***

Alone in the apartment all week, Finn hasn’t had much to do but think about Kurt. When he pours himself a glass of water, he thinks about the way Kurt’s hands look, the way he traces the edge of the martini glass with one finger. When Finn eats, he thinks about Kurt cooking for two, then eating a dinner for one, night after night. When Finn showers, he thinks about taking Kurt back to his apartment, peeling off his clothes, and fucking him until they’re both exhausted.

He almost texts Kurt several times that week, but he doesn’t let himself actually send any of the messages he composes. Half of them are just variations on ‘do we have to wait until Monday’. The other half are variations on ‘come to my apartment so we can do something we’ll regret later’. 

When Monday does arrive, Finn does let himself text Kurt, but only 'See you at 8'. Anything else is going to open a floodgate he's not ready for. Finn dresses with even more attention to his clothes than usual, picking out a shirt that Rachel used to say looked good on him, pleased to find that after just a few weeks at the gym, the shirt fits again. He plays with the ring on his left hand, spinning it around his finger and contemplating taking it off. He doesn't.

When Finn gets to the bar, Kurt is already waiting for him outside. Finn has things to say to Kurt, has other things he knows he shouldn't say, but instead of wrestling with the shoulds or shouldn'ts, he catches Kurt by the scarf and pulls him close.

"You're the only thing I could think about," Finn confesses, then starts to lean in, his mouth close to Kurt's, but not yet touching.

“I thought about kissing you, touching you,” Kurt whispers, and then he lifts himself up just enough for his lips to land on Finn’s, warm and relaxed. He kisses Finn differently than before, almost leisurely, and then draws back to meet Finn’s eye. “I’m not drunk.” 

"I'm not drunk, either," Finn says. "The things I've been thinking about you. Kurt, you can't even know the things I've been thinking."

“I bet I’ve been thinking the same things,” Kurt counters, then kisses Finn again, his hands in Finn’s hair and on Finn’s back, up under Finn's coat.

Finn kisses Kurt for a long time, ignoring the cold air and the voices of people entering or leaving the bar. He keeps clinging to Kurt's scarf with one hand, but the other slides down Kurt's chest, fingers barely pressing against the outline of Kurt's cock through his pants.

Kurt pushes his hips forward, and his head falls forward against Finn’s chest. “Take me to bed. Yours, mine, it doesn’t matter,” he says.

"I want to be inside you," Finn murmurs in Kurt's ear. "I don't care about anything else. I don't care what it makes me. I want you. I want to be in you."

“Yes,” Kurt says, drawing in a breath and nodding, then pulling Finn towards the street. “You can be. I want you to fuck me.” 

A cab pulls up before Finn can reply, then they're tumbling into the back seat, kissing frantically in between Kurt's gasped-out address. Finn slides his hands under Kurt's shirt, feeling the thin silken skin over Kurt's stomach, touching the downy trail of hair leading to Kurt's waistband. The cab ride is too short for anything but touching and kissing, and Finn quickly pays the cabbie when they stop in front of Kurt's building.

Kurt straightens his coat and scarf as they head inside and up the elevator, looking almost guilty but also somehow elated. He pulls Finn with him as he exits the elevator and unlocks the door, then stops cold, releasing Finn and not moving after he’s taken two steps into his apartment.

Kurt’s entire torso moves with two deep breaths before anything else happens. “Blaine?” he calls after that, and Finn feels his stomach twisting, knotting up with a sickening mix of fear and guilt.

“Just about to go to sleep,” Blaine’s voice calls back. “I only have six hours or so, and I thought you’d be out with Finn.” 

Kurt looks over his shoulder at Finn, his lips pressed together, and he puts a finger to his lips before he turns back around. “Oh, well, yes, but, ah.” Kurt pauses. “The bar was crowded! So we thought we’d drink here.”

“Oh, hi, Finn!” Blaine says. “I hope you don’t mind if I don’t come out to say hello.”

"No, that's—" Finn begins, but his throat constricts, and he has to force the words out. "No, that's fine." He can feel his face contorting, though he isn't sure what it must look like to Kurt. "Rachel sends her love."

“Aww, I hope her tour’s going well. Kurt, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night!” There’s the sound of a door closing, and Kurt looks at Finn with a grimace before leading him through to the kitchen. 

“Just have a single beer and you can go,” Kurt whispers. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

"We're married," Finn replies softly. "No matter how much we want to pretend we aren't. And yeah, I'll take that beer." His shoulders sag, and his coat is suddenly too hot, but he can't imagine taking it off or sitting on that tiny sofa, not with Kurt's husband sleeping in the next room.

Kurt pulls out a beer and opens it before handing it to Finn, then pours himself a shot of something, which he immediately drinks. Finn drinks his beer faster than he usually would, trying to get through it as quickly as possible so he can leave and slink back to his apartment to feel ashamed and like shit in private.

Kurt pours himself a second shot and drinks it before turning to Finn. “I’ll see you next week,” he says, and he runs his tongue over his lips while he stares at Finn’s face. 

"Yeah," Finn says, because there's nothing else to say, not tonight.

 

_Kurt follows Finn through Finn’s apartment, thinking as he has before that he wouldn’t guess at either Finn or Rachel’s personalities from the overall decor. Inside Finn’s bedroom, Kurt wonders where Rachel is this time. They don’t use Finn’s apartment when Rachel is touring out of town. It’s too easy, too cliche, and as he thinks, Kurt pulls his shirt over his head and drops it on the floor._

_If he were a better person, Kurt would pick up his shirt and he would leave, ending it, but he’s not, and he keeps his eyes on Finn and smiles. Finn’s shirt is already off, and as Kurt watches, he steps out of his jeans as well, standing before Kurt naked. Kurt is decidedly not a good person, because he leans forward, running his tongue up the center of Finn’s chest and then kissing Finn while he uses one hand to hurriedly take off his own pants._

_“Want me to ride you?” Kurt whispers as he kicks his pants to the side._

_“I always want you to ride me,” Finn replies, his voice low and husky. He holds Kurt’s hips, leaning his head down to kiss Kurt. Kurt runs his hands down Finn’s back, then trails a single finger up Finn’s spine before pushing that hand into Finn’s hair._

_When Kurt is honest with himself, which is surprisingly often given his standing Monday evening activities, he knows that it’s not a matter of losing the passion with Blaine. Blaine never made him feel the way Finn does, and Kurt knows that’s part of what makes it all so terrible of him._

_“Mmm, smart,” Kurt says, pressing against Finn’s body._

_“Yeah, that’s me, smart,” Finn says. He takes Kurt roughly by the arms, walking him backwards to the bed, then he pushes Kurt down onto the mattress with a little more force than necessary, and Kurt fights a smile, knowing that Finn knows how Kurt wants it._

_Kurt moves to the side just a little, waiting for Finn to settle into position on the bed. Once Finn is next to Kurt, he pulls Kurt down on top of him, kissing Kurt with both his hands in Kurt’s hair, twisting and tugging. Kurt shifts until he’s comfortably situated on Finn, and he reaches between them, wrapping his hand around Finn’s cock and stroking it slowly._

_“I need this,” Kurt mutters against Finn’s lips. “Need you. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”_

_“I should take you away,” Finn says. “I should take you away from this, from_ him _, so you don’t have to feel like this.” Finn lifts his hips off the bed, thrusting into Kurt’s hand, kissing him again._

_Kurt kisses back, still stroking Finn’s cock, until he pulls away to grab the lube, pouring it into his hand and then putting his hand back on Finn. “I signed up for it, for all of it,” Kurt says, shaking his head twice and then kissing Finn roughly. “Now, you should fuck me now.”_

_“Yeah, I should,” Finn agrees. He flips Kurt around, pulling Kurt down onto his lap so Kurt is straddling Finn’s hips, his back to Finn. Kurt moves his hand, positioning Finn’s cock as Finn lowers Kurt onto it, and Kurt sits down fully with a slow exhalation._

_“Yeah, that’s good,” he breathes, then starts moving himself up and down, his hands bracing on Finn’s legs. “Just like that. You’re so good.”_

_“I love you like this. I love you riding me,” Finn says, bucking his hips up off the bed to thrust into Kurt. “You should leave him.”_

_“I can’t,” Kurt whines, his hands sliding and slipping in the sweat collecting between Finn’s legs and Kurt’s palms. “Oh, love the way you stretch me out.” He moves a little faster, his muscles tight._

_“Love being inside you,” Finn says. “_ Leave _him. You’re not happy. You hate yourself for doing this. Leave him.” Finn holds Kurt’s hips in his hands, guiding him up and down. “Leave him so you can be free.”_

_“You aren’t happy either,” Kurt points out, closing his eyes and focusing on how Finn’s cock feels inside him and how Finn’s hands feel on his hips. “She wouldn’t even notice you were gone for a few days. You have the right to leave.”_

_Finn lets out a little cry, thrusting up harder into Kurt. “I’m happy now. I’m happy when I’m inside you. I just hate what I am everywhere else. I’m happy inside you.”_

_“Take me to Hawaii and I’ll take you to Paris,” Kurt says, moving his hands and putting them on top of Finn’s. “Harder, fuck me harder.”_

_Finn’s fingers curl around Kurt’s hipbones, lifting him and then slamming him down on Finn’s cock. “Anything. Anything you want. Just leave him. Let me take you away. Let me stop lying. Goddamnit, Kurt, you’re so tight, you feel so good, love this so much.”_

_“So close, want you to come first,” Kurt says, panting between the words. “Leave her, I can’t, I never meant to hurt either of you.”_

_“I don’t want to hurt anybody, I want you to be happy,” Finn gasps. “Fuck, Kurt, I just want you.” He thrusts up into Kurt one more time, his body shuddering underneath Kurt’s, then he wraps one hand around Kurt’s cock and strokes it a few times before Kurt comes too, exploding all over Finn’s hand. Kurt sags back against Finn’s chest, his back sliding against Finn, and he holds as still as he can, wishing he didn’t have to move._

_Eventually, he does, though, and he goes quietly to Finn’s shower, putting on everything but his shirt before emerging back into the bedroom. It breaks their unwritten rules, but when Kurt looks at Finn, lying on the bed and looking devastated and lost, Kurt crosses back to Finn, leaning down and kissing him hard._

_“I’ll see you soon,” Kurt whispers, cupping Finn’s cheek in his hand._

_As Kurt turns to go, Finn murmurs something softly. It sounds like “stay,” but Kurt keeps walking, pretending like he either didn’t hear or didn’t understand. When he gets in the cab, he wipes his face, unsurprised by the tears mingling with drops of water left from his shower._

 

Kurt takes a cab the next Monday, arriving at the bar ten minutes early. He orders a martini for himself and a beer for Finn, but the beer sits on the bar untouched through Kurt’s first martini, and then his second. 

The bartender raises an eyebrow questioningly at the beer when Kurt signals for a third martini, and Kurt shrugs. He checks his phone again, but there’s no message or text or missed call, just like there wasn’t the first twenty or so times he checked. Kurt doesn’t know if he should text Finn, to see if he’s coming or if he’s even okay. A few months ago, Kurt wouldn’t have known for weeks if something had happened to Finn, unless Rachel had found out and notified him, and Kurt feels guilty about that, too. 

He drinks his third martini slowly, contemplating what he and Finn have already done and what Kurt was willing to do. Cheating, and even if they didn’t do anything but kiss, Kurt had been ready to do far more without second-guessing himself. Maybe Finn is right not to meet him, to make sure that they don’t cross even more lines that they really should not cross. Kurt likes to think of himself as someone with excellent self-control, but he either doesn’t really have self-control at all when it comes to this thing with Finn, or he’s choosing not to exercise it. If Finn is doing it for the both of him, maybe that’s the best thing. 

It doesn’t feel like the best thing, though, and Kurt stares at the beer next to him for close to two hours before he finally acknowledges to himself that Finn isn’t going to be there, not that night at least. Kurt pays for the beer and all of his martinis, then puts on his coat and gloves for the walk home. Finn would probably insist on Kurt taking a cab, but Finn isn’t there, and when Kurt gets home, he fixes himself a final drink for the evening. 

Kurt glares at his phone while he drinks it, then puts his phone on the counter while he showers. It doesn’t make any noise and it doesn’t have any messages, not from Finn nor anyone else, and Kurt climbs into bed with a slight frown on his face. 

Maybe it’s the best thing, Finn making sure they don’t cross any lines going forward, but it doesn’t feel like a good thing, and Kurt knows he’ll go to the bar again the next week.

***

Finn feels guilt from all directions. He feels guilty for wanting to cheat on Rachel, for being willing to do what Kurt wanted, going back to Kurt’s apartment to fuck. He feels guilty for not following through on that, for standing Kurt up at the bar the previous Monday. He feels guilty for not being free and for wishing he were free. Maybe he should skip another Monday. Kurt probably won’t even show up again, if he even did last week. Finn doesn’t know, because Finn hasn’t called or texted, and neither has Kurt.

By half past seven, though, Finn knows he’s going to the bar. He gets dressed, shaves so his face doesn’t rasp against Kurt’s and scratch him, puts on his coat, and walks to the bar. When he sees Kurt sitting at the bar, a beer already on the bar in front of Finn’s usual seat, Finn feels a wave of relief, tinged with guilt. 

“Hi,” Finn says, draping his coat over the seatback before sitting down himself. 

“Hello, Finn,” Kurt says, turning his head and smiling. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt says offhandedly. “How was your week? Two weeks, rather.”

“No, I’m not sorry about not coming last week,” Finn says. “I mean, I am sorry about that, but that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?” Kurt asks, taking a sip of his drink. 

“I’m sorry I’m about to destroy both our marriages,” Finn says, picking up his beer and downing it quickly. 

“Oh.” Kurt sets down his glass, studying Finn for a moment. “My answer still stands,” he finally says, his voice soft. 

“Good, because I’m taking you back to my empty apartment, and I’m fucking you all night,” Finn says. He sets down his empty glass and meets Kurt’s eyes, holding the look for a long stretch of time.

Kurt looks sober, then starts to smile slowly as he stands up. “I do hope you didn’t intend that as any sort of threat, because I’m taking it as a promise.” 

“Yeah, it’s a promise,” Finn agrees. As he stands and they start to leave the bar, he takes Kurt’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers. Kurt looks down at their hands and then back up at Finn, still smiling. When they reach the sidewalk, Kurt slides his other hand to the back of Finn’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. 

After a long kiss, they walk towards Finn’s apartment instead of taking a cab, because despite Finn’s promise to Kurt, he still needs those blocks to sort through everything he’s feeling and to steel his resolve. Finn lets them into his building and leads Kurt up the stairs, stopping a few flights up to press Kurt against the wall, kissing him again, more frenzied this time, pawing at Kurt’s clothes as he tries to slips his hands underneath to touch Kurt’s skin. 

Kurt puts his own hands under Finn’s coat, pulling at Finn’s shirt and lifting one leg to put it around Finn’s calf. “How many more floors?” Kurt asks. 

“Two,” Finn says. “Fuck, let’s get up there.” He leans back, letting Kurt put both feet on the ground before he wraps his arm around Kurt’s waist, steering him up the stairs. Kurt nods, letting Finn propel him as they walk. They hurry up the additional flights, then Finn quickly unlocks the apartment. He’s kissing Kurt again before he even gets the door closed behind him, undoing Kurt’s coat and pushing it off to the floor.

Kurt puts his hands on Finn’s face, kissing Finn deeply, and he presses himself up against Finn again, almost straining to get closer. Finn shoves his hands between them, fumbling with Kurt’s belt buckle until he gets it unfastened. “Bed?” Kurt mumbles. 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Yeah, bed.” With his hands still on Kurt’s waistband, Finn starts walking towards the bedroom, Kurt walking backwards, and as they hit the edge of the bed, Finn unzips Kurt’s pants and pushes them down Kurt’s hips. “I want everything out of the way.”

Kurt wiggles out of his pants, taking the rest of his clothes off and then lying back on the bed, almost posed, and he gestures at Finn’s clothes. “Better?” he asks. 

Finn smiles widely at Kurt. “Yeah, almost perfect,” he says. He pulls his own shirt over his head and lets it drop before unfastening his pants and stepping out of them and his underwear. “Now it’s perfect.”

Kurt reaches up, taking Finn’s hand and smiling as he tugs Finn forward. “Tell me again.”

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” Finn says. “I’m going to push you back against this bed, hold you down, and fuck you. If you don’t want that, tell me.”

“I want it,” Kurt says firmly. “I want it now, just like that.”

“Good,” Finn says. He opens the drawer in the nightstand, taking out the bottle of lube he bought earlier that week, the thing that cemented for him that yes, this was what he wanted, this was what he was going to do, and damn the consequences. He sets the lube on the bed next to Kurt and then climbs onto the bed, his body over Kurt’s, bracing his arms on either side of Kurt’s head as he stares down into Kurt’s eyes. “Tell me that you want me.”

“Oh, I want you,” Kurt says, thrusting his body up. “I want you so much.”

“Promise me you’re really here with me. Promise me you aren’t imagining somebody else,” Finn pleads. 

“You’re the only one I think about,” Kurt whispers. “Every day, all week, every night. Just you.”

“I just want to be inside you,” Finn says. 

“Do it,” Kurt says. “Be inside me. Fuck me.”

Finn keeps his eyes locked with Kurt’s as he reaches for the lube, pouring some into his hand and slicking up his cock before slowly pushing two lubed fingers into Kurt, moving them in and out only a few times before withdrawing them. “Now?”

“Now.”

Finn puts his hand around his own cock again, guiding it as he slowly slides into Kurt, feeling Kurt stretch around him. “You’re so tight,” he breathes. “Do you need me to slow down?”

Kurt shakes his head. “You feel so good, Finn.”

“You feel fucking amazing, Kurt,” Finn says. He pushes in more, still slowly, until he’s completely inside Kurt, Kurt’s ass hot and tight around him. Finn stares down into Kurt’s eyes, not moving, just watching Kurt and feeling him.

Kurt sighs with a smile. “All night.” 

“Kurt,” Finn says softly. “God, Kurt.”

“I know,” Kurt says. “I know. Please. I know it’s—fuck me?”

“Yes,” Finn says. He rocks his hips back, pulling almost out of Kurt before thrusting into him again. “Like that?”

“Harder,” Kurt says, rocking with Finn’s thrusts.

Finn pushes in harder, fucking Kurt a little faster. “I’m sorry,” Finn whispers. “God you feel so good. I’m so sorry it has to be like this.”

“It’s so wonderful. So awful.” Kurt moves his legs up, holding one with his hand. “I shouldn’t want this so much.” 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Finn agrees, falling into a rhythm as he continues thrusting into Kurt. “We should stop. We need to stop, Kurt.” Finn doesn’t stop, though, or slow down, and he doesn’t really want to. 

“We won’t do it again,” Kurt says unconvincingly. “Oh, but _there_ , Finn, like that.”

“Just this one time. Just this one time and we’ll stop. We’ll stop, we can’t do this again, we—oh fuck, Kurt, please don’t make me stop.”

“I needed this,” Kurt murmurs. “Don’t you dare stop, Finn.”

“I won’t stop, I won’t stop, I swear to God, Kurt I’m not stopping,” Finn says, putting his hand on Kurt’s thigh and pushing Kurt’s leg back more, so Finn can fuck him deeper. “We should stop, but I won’t. I want to stay inside you. I want to be inside you forever.”

“All night, forever,” Kurt agrees, his hips angled up and rising off the bed. “We’ll stop later.”

“Tomorrow. We’ll stop tomorrow, and we won't do this again. It’s wrong, it’s so wrong, it’s so fucking good,” Finn says, thrusting into Kurt in time with his words. 

“Yes,” Kurt agrees, the fingers of his free hand curling in the sheets and his head tilting back, exposing his throat. “Tomorrow. Don’t stop, just like this.”

Finn dips his head down to trace the tip of his tongue along Kurt’s throat, nipping and sucking at the skin in spots, nearly bending Kurt’s body in half as he fucks Kurt hard and fast. Kurt keeps making little noises, moans and gasps, and Finn can feel the sounds vibrating in Kurt’s throat, Kurt’s head thrown back against the pillow, his hair wild. 

“You’re the most beautiful thing, the most amazing thing,” Finn mutters against Kurt’s throat. “Kurt, you’re so beautiful, so tight, you feel so good, fuck, I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve this.”

“Finn,” Kurt whispers. “Finn, Finn, I need to come now.”

Finn moves his mouth to Kurt’s ear, nibbling at the lobe, then breathing, “Please, Kurt, please, come for me, come on me, let me feel you.”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees, his head bobbing. “Yes, yes, _yes_ , Finn,” he repeats, then comes with a final “Finn,” drawn out and loud. Kurt tightens around Finn, and before he’s even ready, Finn is coming, thrusting deeply into Kurt over and over until he finally collapses on top of him, both of them sticky and slick with sweat. 

“God, Kurt,” Finn whispers, his voice feeling rough, breaking a little. “We can’t keep doing this, but I don’t know how I can stop now. This is all I wanted.”

“We can’t,” Kurt agrees, his voice thick and low. “We’ll stop tomorrow, Finn. I don’t want to stop now.” 

Finn doesn’t say out loud that he doesn’t know if he can stop tomorrow, either, or the day after that. “We won’t stop tonight. We’ll figure it out later. Tonight I just want you, I just need you here with me.”

“Yes.” Kurt pushes gently on the back of Finn’s neck, urging him down into another kiss, and then he prods at Finn’s shoulder. “Roll over, onto your back,” he says, waiting for Finn to do that before Kurt smiles widely, kneeling beside him. “Let me do the work this time.”

***

Kurt goes through the next several days entirely too happy for someone who just cheated on his husband. He knows this is true, and not just his own view, because several people ask him after Tuesday night’s show, and even more mention it before Wednesday night’s show. They all assume he’s had good news of some kind or another, and Kurt isn’t sure if that should make him feel more or less guilty. If his mood was seemingly so dour before, then isn’t that a small bit of justification for his actions?

On Sunday night, Kurt accepts an invitation for dinner with some of the cast after the matinee, and then he heads home, humming under his breath. He unlocks the door absently, and is in the middle of hanging up his coat when Blaine steps up close behind him. 

“Oh, good, you’re home!” Blaine says, sliding his hands around Kurt’s waist, and Kurt has the quick unforgivable thought that Blaine’s hands feel wrong, too small and not strong enough. “Come with me.” Blaine leads Kurt to the sofa, and there are two glasses of champagne sitting on the coffee table. “I got good news today!”

“On a Sunday?” Kurt asks. “What was it?”

“Oh, everyone’s at work on Sunday,” Blaine says dismissively, picking up one of the glasses and gesturing for Kurt to pick up the other. “I found out about the Beekman-Haverman today. I got it!”

“That’s wonderful, Blaine,” Kurt says he lifts the second glass of champagne. He can’t remember if the Beekman-Haverman is an award, a scholarship, a fellowship, or some other category he can’t even name. “Congratulations!”

Blaine beams as he clicks their glasses together. “I knew you’d be home earlier tonight, so I thought I’d steal a few hours away for the two of us.” There’s a look in his eye and a sound in his voice that Kurt knows, even if it’s been months, and he takes a drink of his champagne, knowing before they leave the living room he’s going to be making mental comparisons. 

As soon as Kurt finishes his champagne, Blaine takes his hand, guiding them to the bedroom, and when Blaine kisses Kurt, Kurt tries to remember how it once felt to kiss Blaine, exciting and a little dangerous. It just feels familiar and a little flat instead, and Kurt tells himself not to think of Finn, not to think about how Finn presses him against walls when they kiss. 

Blaine insists on undressing both of them, playfully slapping at Kurt’s hands when Kurt tries to assist, and Kurt tries to remember if there was a time when he liked that. Eventually, Blaine and Kurt are both naked, and Kurt reclines on the bed, weighing the slow feel of the moment against the way he and Finn couldn’t get their clothes off fast enough. 

Kurt tries to talk, but Blaine barely responds, murmuring quiet, nonsensical phrases and sentences. It takes Blaine too long to pull the lube out of Kurt’s bedside table, like he’s forgotten which drawer or where in the drawer, and when he leans over Kurt, a single finger sliding into Kurt’s ass, Kurt can’t help but think that Blaine is too small. His fingers are thin and short, no doubt an asset at the hospital, but not during sex, and the top of his head is at Kurt’s nipples. 

All of it takes too long and is too gentle. Blaine mumbles about how long it’s been and being careful as he moves his single finger too slowly and waits too long before adding a second and then a third, and Kurt wants to laugh, to tell him to get on with it, that it’s not been long at all for Kurt. 

He doesn’t, though, just runs his hands down Blaine’s sides. He’s doing to Blaine what he promised Finn he wouldn’t do to Finn, imagining someone else there with him instead of Blaine. When Blaine finally pushes in, Kurt waits for the moment that it will, he thinks, come together, when he’ll feel full and at least a little bit right, but it never comes, even when he realizes Blaine is completely inside him. 

Despite trying not to do it, Kurt compares Blaine with Finn the entire time Blaine is inside him. Blaine is smaller, narrower, gentler, more tentative, and slower, and he’s almost completely silent, except for his breath and a few whispers of “Kurt.” Kurt hadn’t realized at the time how much Finn talking, especially the guilty talking, added something to the experience. None of it should be enough to make sex with Kurt’s husband completely unappealing, but the combination does exactly that. Sex with Blaine is flat and uninteresting compared to the hot, carnal way Finn fucked Kurt just days earlier. 

Blaine doesn’t seem uninterested, but there’s a rote quality to the way Blaine moves and even the things he whispers, like he had it planned in his head that the end to his perfect day was thirty minutes, tops, of sex with his husband. With Finn, there was an acknowledgment that nothing was perfect, that they were carving out their own moments of living, and they were holding on to those moments for as long as they would last. Blaine may want Kurt, and Kurt doesn’t doubt that, but Finn _needed_ Kurt, and Kurt needed Finn as well, their bodies coming together like it was more than just fucking, like they were feeding off each other and the energy they were expending. 

Kurt is jerked abruptly back to awareness when he recognizes that Blaine is nearly about to come, Blaine’s hand wrapping around Kurt’s cock, and Kurt almost grimaces when he realizes how far from coming he himself is. He closes his eyes, bringing up the image of Finn’s face when Kurt rode him, and in his mind, Kurt can feel Finn’s cock pounding up into him and the naked desire in Finn’s eyes. He chokes back Finn’s name, moaning wordlessly instead as he comes, and as soon as he stops moving, Blaine collapses on top of him. 

Kurt’s eyes open and he stares at the ceiling while Blaine cleans himself up and gets dressed again, and he keeps staring up while Blaine explains that he has to go back in to the hospital to check on some patients with the shift change in nurses, but that he’ll be back for a few hours of sleep, and Kurt shouldn’t wait up. Blaine kisses Kurt on the corner of Kurt’s mouth, and Kurt manages enough of a smile for Blaine not to think anything is amiss when Blaine thanks Kurt for their evening together. 

As soon as the door closes behind Blaine, Kurt rolls onto his side and then sits up, stripping the bed as he stands. He takes a shower, standing under the hot spray until the water gets cooler, and then he remakes the bed and lies on the clean sheets that don’t smell anything like Blaine. 

Kurt leaves for the bar at seven-thirty the next evening, taking a cab and arriving fifteen minutes early. He needs to know, needs to see Finn again, and before they can enter the bar, Kurt sees Finn and goes to him immediately. 

He wraps his arms around Finn’s neck, kissing him almost gently, trying not to influence the difference between Blaine’s kisses and Finn’s kisses too much, but Finn immediately kisses him back hard, their tongues meeting as Finn backs Kurt against the wall with his hands in Kurt’s hair. 

“My place,” Kurt says breathlessly after several minutes pass. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” Finn says, but he also starts pulling Kurt towards the street and the cab that just pulled up in front of the bar. 

“Just tonight,” Kurt says, sliding his fingers under the cuff of Finn’s coat. “I need you, Finn.”

“I need you, too,” Finn confesses. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I need to be inside you again.”

“As soon as we get there,” Kurt promises, giving the driver his address and settling back against the seat. He pulls Finn towards him, kissing him again, and giggles against Finn’s mouth. Their wedding bands look enough alike that anyone who sees them would probably think they were newlyweds. 

The two of them keep kissing until the cab stops at Kurt’s building, and he pays the driver hurriedly before they go inside. Kurt doesn’t say anything as they go up the elevator, but he smiles at Finn, feeling both giddy and guilty. He shouldn’t be so happy to be bringing Finn to his apartment, to his bed, or to be having sex with someone who isn’t Blaine, but he is, almost unbearably so. 

As they walk through the door into Kurt’s apartment, Finn freezes for a moment, and Kurt shakes his head. “He’s not here. I promise.” He kisses Finn hard again, their teeth clashing together for a moment, then grabs Finn’s hand and pulls him to the bedroom. Kurt moves both of his hands to Finn’s belt, unfastening it and Finn’s jeans as quickly as he can. Finn’s fingers work on Kurt’s belt and pants, pushing them off before they’re completely unfastened, and Kurt steps out of them and towards Finn. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Kurt admits, even if Finn probably doesn’t understand the added urgency of the feeling. 

“I missed you all week,” Finn says, lifting Kurt’s shirt over his head before pulling off his own. He runs his hands down Kurt’s sides a few times, stroking his hips and cock. 

“Me too.” Kurt shivers a little at Finn’s touch. “I should tell you to stop, but I’m not going to. Not tonight,” Kurt says, and he tries not to keep thinking about what else he could say, about not stopping at all. 

“I don’t want to stop,” Finn assures him. “I just want you. I need to be inside you, Kurt.” His hands tighten on Kurt’s hips, then Finn flips Kurt around, pushing him forward so he’s leaning over with his torso resting on the bed. “Lube?”

“That drawer,” Kurt says, pointing. “Near the front.” 

Finn opens and closes the drawer, and within moment, he’s pressed behind Kurt, his cock hard and slick and pushing inside. Finn exhales as he slides in, a long sigh, leaning forward to rest his chest against Kurt’s back.

“Just like that,” Kurt says, closing his eyes and appreciating the way Finn fills him, the way he can feel himself stretching to accommodate Finn. “I shouldn’t want this so much. I want this, I want you, so so much.”

“You feel so good, Kurt,” Finn murmurs, kissing the back of Kurt’s neck. “So good. I’m so sorry I’m making you a cheater. We shouldn’t be doing this. God, I’ve got to start fucking you now, I can’t hold still.”

“Yes, move,” Kurt agrees. He rocks his hips back, smiling at the bed in front of him. “We’re horrible, I’m sorry, we’ll stop. Just not… not now.”

Finn starts to move behind Kurt, fucking him in a slow, deep rhythm, one arm wrapping around Kurt’s chest to pull him back against Finn. “I wish it were different. I wish we could be different, different people, better people, but God, Kurt, you’re so good, so beautiful, so tight.”

“This is better than anything,” Kurt admits, not wanting to talk about the night before, how much he had wished Blaine were Finn instead. “ _Anything_.”

“Anything,” Finn parrots back. “I wish you were mine.”

“Don’t say that,” Kurt tells him, because it makes Kurt sad, and because it’s true. “Keep fucking me, Finn, so I can feel it’s you.”

Finn immediately thrusts in harder, slamming his hips forward, his cock driving into Kurt over and over, Finn’s arm holding Kurt firmly in place. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry we have to do this. I’m sorry I can’t just—” He breaks off into a low cry, his head leaning against the back of Kurt’s head as they continue to move together. Finn’s other hand moves to Kurt’s cock, stroking it roughly. 

“I’m not,” Kurt whispers, not sure if Finn can hear him. “I should be.” He pushes into Finn’s hand, dropping his head against the mattress as he comes, calling out Finn’s name like he had wanted to the night before. Finn fucks Kurt for a little longer before he comes, moaning and holding Kurt close.

“Leave him,” Finn whispers into Kurt’s ear. “Leave him. Don’t stay.”

Kurt shakes his head. “I can’t. Don’t.” 

Finn pulls away after a moment, his fingers running over Kurt’s chest, and then the warmth of his body is gone. Kurt hears Finn walking toward the bathroom, then the shower coming on, and Kurt crawls up onto the bed, curling up on his side and listening to the sounds of Finn in the shower. A few more minutes pass, then Finn walks back into the bedroom gathering up bits of his clothes and dressing silently. He stands at the foot of the bed, looking at Kurt, and Kurt doesn’t know what to say, so he stares back at Finn without moving. 

Eventually, Finn turns and walks out of the room, the apartment echoing with the sound of the door shutting behind Finn as he leaves. Kurt doesn’t call after him, because he’s sure he’ll see Finn the next Monday. 

 

_Kurt is still hot and clenching around Finn’s cock when Finn pulls Kurt down against his chest, holding Kurt against him._

_“What’s wrong?” Finn asks, even though it should be obvious what’s wrong, because all of this is wrong, everything is wrong, and it’s only right when he’s inside Kurt._

_Kurt takes a deep breath, burying his face against Finn before looking up. “I can’t,” he starts, like he sometimes does, saying he can’t leave, but he pauses and takes another breath. “I can’t stay.”_

_“You can’t_ stay _?” Finn repeats, not letting himself start to hope, not letting that hope creep into his voice. “Kurt, what happened?”_

_“I knew it would be like this. I signed on for that,” Kurt says rotely. “It was just idle conversation. He was home for lunch on Saturday.” Kurt looks at Finn, their eyes meeting. “Some of the agencies take three or four years. I was just suggesting that, you know, we’re not getting any younger.”_

_Finn nods, wanting to listen to Kurt, but hating everything about Kurt’s life with Blaine. “Tell me what happened.”_

_“He said no. At first I thought he meant no, not yet, or maybe he wanted to try surrogacy, but that wasn’t it.” Kurt shakes his head and exhales. “He meant no. No kids. He said he was_ happy _with his life. This life, he’s happy with it, seeing me awake once or twice a week, and he doesn’t want to have kids. At all.” Kurt presses his lips together. “I didn’t sign up for that.”_

_“And you—you can’t stay? You want to leave?”_

_“I was waiting for things to be different. They aren’t going to be any different. He doesn’t want them to be any different. I can’t stay,” Kurt repeats. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m just dumping all of this on you.”_

_“Kurt,” Finn says softly. “Kurt. I left Rachel three weeks ago.”_

_Kurt’s head jerks up and he stares at Finn. “What? You didn’t tell me!” Kurt looks wild-eyed. “Where are you living?”_

_“I’ve been sleeping on the sofa at Dani’s,” Finn admits. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I didn’t want you to think you had to leave him. I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’ve already hurt you enough, I couldn’t put you in that position.”_

_“I just saw her for lunch last week!” Kurt says, looking more perturbed about Dani’s failure to inform him than anything else. “Finn, I meant it. I can’t stay. I have to leave him. For myself.”_

_Finn bites down on his lower lip, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Get dressed,” he says. “Get up and get dressed right now.”_

_“What?” Kurt asks, but he does just that, standing up and going to his closet. “Where am I going? We going?”_

_“The airport. We’ll decide where when we get there,” Finn says, pulling on his own clothes. “Don’t pack a bag. Don’t do anything to slow us down. Get your wallet, your passport, money if you’ve got it here. We’ll figure it out when we land. Just come with me._ Come with me _.”_

_Kurt stops in the middle of getting dressed and smiles at Finn. “Okay,” he agrees, staring at Finn while his smile gets bigger before finishing pulling on his clothes. He goes to a drawer and pulls out his passport and what looks like a thin travel wallet before retrieving his usual wallet from the pants on the floor. “Do I need anything else?”_

_“No. Let’s go now, before we back out,” Finn says, holding his hand out for Kurt like he did so many years ago, asking Kurt to dance with him at their parents’ wedding, and feeling lighter than he has in possible that long._

_Kurt takes Finn’s hand, laughing in a way that Finn hasn’t heard Kurt laugh in years. “Okay,” he repeats. “You’re right. Let’s go.”_

_Hand in hand, they leave Kurt apartment, ride the elevator down, and catch a cab to the airport. They don’t kiss, there’s nothing frantic or desperate between them for once, but they cling to each other’s hands the entire drive there. Finn doesn’t know if they’ll end up in Maui, or Paris, or somewhere else altogether. He doesn’t know if this thing between them will really last without the secrecy and deceit that has driven them for so long. What he does know is that it feels right, that the wrongness and the loneliness are evaporating, and maybe, just maybe, that will be enough to build something new._


End file.
